Everything you need to know about the world's top hotel brands
What does Six Senses Gangtey Lodge, a wellness retreat set in a glacial valley amid the mist-covered mountains of Bhutan, have to do with the Holiday Inn Express in London's Stratford you might wonder? Well, technically, they are sisters. Both fall under the umbrella of IHG Hotels & Resorts, which, alongside Six Senses, also counts Regent, InterContinental and Kimpton among its portfolio – and that's just the luxury brands.
The hotel industry is in an ongoing period of consolidation and proliferation; each week seems to bring news of yet another brand launch or an old favourite being absorbed into a large corporate entity. The result of this is that the 10 largest hotel groups – your Marriotts, Hiltons and the like – have controlled almost 75 per cent of the global market in recent years.
Wherever you're going and whatever you need, be it a honeymoon resort or a night at an airport, these groups want to add your booking to their market share. This price-point variety also protects businesses from economic downturns – if one year's bonus has you checking into Raffles, but the following year's new boiler and leaky roof makes Novotel the more realistic option, parent company Accor cashes in regardless.
This consolidation is not entirely without benefit to the consumer. Economies of scale mean – in theory at least – a better product for a fairer price, while group loyalty schemes allow guests to rack up more rewards with fewer memberships, and the potential to turn those airport stay points into candlelit dinners at a beach bolthole in Bali.
But now that travellers are confronted by such an overwhelming number of hotel brands, often with few clear defining factors – what's the difference between a Park Hyatt, a Grand Hyatt and a Hyatt Regency? – knowing how to sort the wheat from the chaff is becoming ever harder. We take a closer look at five of the biggest names to help you decode this complicated area of hospitality.
Marriott International
Number of hotels: 8,700
Marriott, from humble beginnings as a root beer stand in Washington DC, is the undisputed leader of the pack, with a market capitalisation of more than $72 billion. Its portfolio is vast, comprising some of the world's most recognisable hotels. The top end of the scale is awash with luxury; see the elegant service of Ritz-Carlton or the contemporary cool of Ian Schrager's Edition hotels. Then there's jewellery house Bulgari's foray into hospitality and St. Regis' classic grandes dames, plus of course the group's flagship JW Marriotts.
Move down a spot from the very top tier and you'll find some hidden treasures in the premium range. Take Le Méridien's new 'urban resort' in Hualien, a city on the east coast of Taiwan, which at a squint could almost pass as an Aman. Autograph Collection, meanwhile, focuses on 'independent' hotels selected for their character – clearly evidenced at places such as the Anouska Hempel-designed Duxton Reserve in Singapore.
This is also the market segment that the group's namesake Marriott Hotels & Resorts plays in, alongside stablemates Sheraton and Westin. The most affordable Marriott properties tend to be diffusion brands – Fairfield by Marriott, for example – hoping to glean a little of their parent company's repute.
Best brand
The Luxury Collection is a solid place to start, offering appealing handpicked hotels, from the bonafide legend that is Venice's Gritti Palace to buzzy newcomers such as Hôtel du Couvent in Nice. Ritz-Carlton, while sometimes having a reputation for old-school luxury, has also upped its efforts with openings such as the Ritz-Carlton, Nikko, a modernist beauty on the banks of Japan's Lake Chuzenji.
Hilton Worldwide
Number of hotels: 8,600
Hilton is probably the most famous hotel group in the world – in no small part thanks to the antics of Paris Hilton, the original Noughties celebrity heiress and founder Conrad's great-granddaughter.
Hilton is certainly a group that understands the power of name recognition: aside from classic Hiltons, there's Canopy by Hilton, whose headboards attempt to create an overhanging canopy effect (who knew?), and Curio Collection by Hilton, similar to Marriott's Autograph Collection – think unique, independent properties with a bit of personality such as Boulders Resort in Scottsdale, Arizona. Then there are the more practical Tru by Hilton, Hampton by Hilton and Embassy Suites by Hilton.
Perhaps most curious of all is DoubleTree by Hilton. How does it distinguish itself from a regular Hilton? After considerable research the only tangible differentiator we found was that guests receive a chocolate chip cookie on check-in. When asked, a spokesperson for Hilton described it as: 'Hilton's fast-growing, upscale hotel brand known for its warm hospitality.'
Best brand
At the top of Hilton's chain is the illustrious Waldorf Astoria, best known for the New York outpost, which reopens this year following an estimated $2 billion renovation. Already open is the Osaka property, which has the best views of the city from its Andre Fu-designed lobby.
IHG
Number of hotels: 6,300
Holiday Inn, owned by IHG, is the world's most recognisable budget hotel brand, and a byword for a certain kind of simple, almost retro travel. The most familiar Holiday Inns tend to offer more practical stays (cities, airports, motorway service stations), but there are some surprising outposts: the Holiday Inn Resort Kandooma Maldives for example, which has overwater villas and starts at an appealing £200 per night.
At the middle point of InterContinental Hotel Group's portfolio are Crowne Plaza (a solid four-star offering) and Hotel Indigo, another ' boutique collection ', with outposts as far-flung as the Galapagos and as close to home as Coventry. IHG's luxury output chiefly concerns Regent Hotels and Six Senses. Regent shares a founder with Aman (Adrian Zecha) and since being acquired by IHG has been rapidly expanding, now managing properties such as the iconic Carlton Cannes.
Best Brand
An unlikely hero for IHG is the 'voco' brand, a collection of affordable luxury properties that includes voco St. David's Cardiff; a sail-topped hotel with knockout views across the water to Penarth. Of the Six Senses brand, few properties can beat the five lodges that make up Six Senses Bhutan; staying at each offers a ready-made tour of the Land of the Thunder Dragon.
Accor
Number of hotels: 5,600
French group Accor does luxury well, counting Raffles, Sofitel and Fairmont in its high-end segment. It has also acquired the rights to the Orient Express name, kicking off this new venture with the opening of La Minerva last month in Rome. In the premium range, you'll find the modernity of Pullman, the cultural and design-forward Mondrian, and reliable Swiss stalwarts Mövenpick and Swissôtel.
To the more affordable end of the scale are the mid-range Mercure (which also has a spruced-up subsidiary, Grand Mercure) and Novotel brands, as well as budget-friendly ibis. Accor also owns Mama Shelter, the youthful lifestyle brand that joins Hoxton hotels (now part of Ennismore, which is two-thirds owned by Accor) in vying for the coveted millennial market.
Best Brand
Hoxton redefined the concept of the mid-range hotel in creating an affordable brand that offers a truly trendy stay. The loveliest in the group is probably the Hoxton Paris, but closer to home we're fans of the Hoxton Southwark and its rooftop restaurant.
Hyatt Hotels
Number of hotels: 1,300
Hyatt is the smallest of the five groups on this list, but it's snapping at the heels of its larger competitors. The company recently bought boutique hotel booking platform Mr & Mrs Smith, signalling an intention to engage with more intimate properties. Smith isn't Hyatt's only acquisition either; it also owns Alila, Andaz and the Standard Hotels, all of which are notably design-focussed.
It's the brands bearing the Hyatt name that are a little trickier to unpack. Park Hyatt, Grand Hyatt, Hyatt Regency, Hyatt Centric and so on – where to start? Park Hyatt is, despite common misconception, far and away the most luxurious of the group, while Grand Hyatt, it turns out, is the less grand of the two. Hyatt Regency is a solid choice for accessible luxury, while Hyatt Centric offers affordable but stylish hotels often with unexpected perks, such as daybed-lined rooftop pools.
Best brand
The Unbound Collection by Hyatt is the group's answer to Marriott's Luxury Collection, and includes truly special hotels such as Biarritz's Hötel du Palais. Sofia Coppola's 2003 hit Lost in Translation made the Park Hyatt Tokyo a star, but the Park Hyatt Kyoto
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mail
2 hours ago
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE Outrageous demands from jet-setting billionaires when they stay at the world's best hotels: 'They lose their minds'
Olivia Ferney has had lobster flown across islands, been berated over the brand of bottled water in a minibar and nearly lost a $100,000 booking because there weren't enough TVs in a mansion. But her most viral moments come when she reenacts these luxury travel meltdowns on her TikTok, @travelwithlivii - dramatic phone calls with clients flipping out over crystal meditation rooms or gluten-free bread gone rogue.
BBC News
4 hours ago
- BBC News
Taiwan's epic train ride through 50 tunnels and 77 bridges
The historic Alishan Forest Railway, once crippled by typhoons and earthquakes, is running again – and helping revive mountain villages, celebrate Indigenous heritage and redefine slow travel in Taiwan. A fun fact: it's not just cities that have twin destinations; heritage railways do, too. I learn this while riding south-western Taiwan's recently restored Alishan Forest Railway, which reopened in 2024 as a tourist train, 118 years after steam locomotives first hauled timber along its tracks. One of the most passionate advocates for its restoration is Michael Reilly, the former British Representative to Taiwan. He's also company secretary for Wales' Welshpool and Llanfair Light Railway and the reason why, in 2022, the Alishan Forest's Railway became its twin. The union was cemented by the presentation of a diesel engine, once used in Alishan, now ferrying holidaymakers through the rolling hills of Powys, Wales. With international visitor numbers to Taiwan booming and new routes – including flights from Emirates, timed specifically to suit Taiwan-bound travellers from the UK – It's not hard to see why the Taiwan Railway Administration was so supportive of the endeavour. It's an opportunity to show off the island's less-explored regions, showing visitors that there's more to Taiwan than Taipei's sky-scraping Taipei 101 tower and famous night markets. But this railway is more than just a tourist train – it provides an insight into Taiwan's history, starting with its colonisation by Japan. It was 1900, five years into Japan's colonial rule of Taiwan, when Japanese railway technician Iida Toyoji surveyed a mountain route to carry Alishan's prized timber from forested peaks to the country's ports. The first sections were completed by 1907, and the first engines were Shay locomotives – American powerhouses capable of dragging tonnes of timber along the endless switchbacks and spirals. One of them earned a Guinness World Record for travelling the "world's longest railway spiral". The start and end of the Dulishan Spiral are only 570m apart, but an elevation difference of 233m means trains traveling on this stretch must negotiate 5km of twisting track to cover what would be a 570m straight-line distance. Other feats of engineering include numerous bridges that span Alishan's forested valleys and meandering tunnels dug though mountains shaped by landslides. At times, I find myself staring down at sections of track I passed moments before, losing the ability to keep count of the dizzying number of switchbacks, and every so often I glimpse the remnants of a small landside or a fallen cypress – a reminder of the challenges faced by railway engineers toiling away in a region where earthquakes are an almost monthly occurrence. In 1908, the Japanese company funding the railway suspended construction, citing financial problems, and the Government-General of Taiwan stepped in. By 1912 Shay steam locomotives were puffing along the twisting tracks once more. Passenger services started in 1920, but timber was still the main cargo and the trains ground to a halt in the 1960s as demand for wood declined. A huge fire in 1976 and the Jiji earthquake in 1999 disrupted the few passenger services still running, but the final nail in the coffin was the devastation wreaked by Typhoon Morakot in 2009, which suspended all services. Yet calls to restore the full 71km route from Chiayi, where those first steam trains puffed out of the station in 1907, to Alishan Station, 2,216m above sea level, never ceased. The railway had become a lifeline for Indigenous communities along the route, connecting them with schools, doctors and markets. Tourists, too, kept coming to ride the few still-operational sections. In 2013, with support from the Taiwan Railway Administration and the Forestry Bureau, limited operations resumed. In 2019, Taiwan's Ministry of Culture, keen to expand its tourist offerings, announced the creation of the Alishan Forestry and Railway Cultural Landscape. Restoration work continued, and in early 2024 the route reopened in its entirety. On 29 April, the first passenger train returned to the tracks. As I rumble through Alishan's cedar-scented forests, it's easy to see why the original engineers struggled. This alpine obstacle course features 50 bridges and 77 tunnels. Occasionally, on some of the steeper sections, I hear a shrill alarm from the train's cab – a warning that the wheels have slipped slightly. Large machines can't access much of the remote track, so railway sleepers were laid by hand. At one point, we swerve into a recently constructed tunnel; to its left is the dark, cavernous entrance of the old one, now perilously close to the rapidly eroding cliff face. One of the first stops is Lumachan, once a tobacco production hub, now ringed by rice paddies. When the railway fell into disrepair, the station and the nearby tobacco warehouses did too. But with services restored, the area has revived. The shiny new station, with its ornate tiled roof, is now the disembarkation point for passengers visiting the nearby Tobacco Cultural Park, where they can peek inside former tobacco warehouses. Further along is Fenqihu, which sprang up around its namesake train station. As one of the railway's larger stops, it had its own army of workers. "Fenqihu Station was a lot busier in the past," says villager Li Mao-Song, whose grandfather worked as a coal carrier. But the railway's rebirth is helping bring life back to the village. In a locomotive shed at one end of the platform I find a restored steam engine and an artefact-filled exhibition about the railway's history. An hour-long pause here allows passengers time to stretch their legs, and it's also a popular stop for walkers who come to hike the trails that weave through Alishan's forests. I'm waylaid, however, by the scents wafting from nearby food stalls. I opt for a bento box of turkey rice topped with soy sauce and daikon. It's a local delicacy once beloved by the train drivers and lumberjacks who'd stop here to rest and refuel, and now by tourists, who flock to the tiny restaurants and street food stalls surrounding the station. Back onboard, golden sunlight seeps through swathes of bamboo (grown and harvested by Alishan's Indigenous Tsou tribe), complete with a soundtrack of timber-tapping woodpeckers. More than half Taiwan's firefly species can be found here, and giant flying squirrels are regularly spotted. I'm admittedly disappointed that I fail to see a deer, who live here in huge numbers (Lumachan station's name is derived from the word luman, meaning "full of deer"). At each station, the conductor leans out the door and passes a token on a loop of rope to a stationmaster, who passes a different one back. The exchange is a nod to the railway's earliest days, when movement along the tracks was strictly controlled and trains could only progress onto the next section once conductors were in possession of the correct token. It's a ritual clearly cherished by railway employees. These employees would have been almost entirely male when the first steam engines hauled their cargo through Alishan's forests. More than a century later, the rail staff is decidedly more mixed. "Many people think railway workers will be male," says Lo Yu-Ting, who helps manage operational routes and was previously stationmaster at the railway's Zhushan Station, Taiwan's highest station. "But when I joined, I was so happy to find so many skilled women in different roles." More like this:• The return of Mexico's famous Tequila Express train• Scotland's most remote railway adventure• A 58-tunnel slow train through India's Eastern Ghats Lo believes the emphasis on teamwork plays a major role. "As a station master, I faced many challenges – managing trains and staff and dealing with natural disasters, which can be tough. But there's great support for employees. This allows me to take care of my two daughters while working." I meet Lo in Chiayi, the line's starting point. On the adjacent platform, Taiwan's high-speed trains flash past in a blur. In contrast, Alishan Forest Railway's red diesel engine roars to life, ready to haul its restored cedar-clad carriages skywards. Chiayi is a city shaped by cedar and cypress. In the early 1900s, many railway workers lived at nearby Hinoki Village, where their former cypress-wood homes have been lovingly preserved. It's now a magnet for tourists who come to slurp bubble tea in old drivers' houses or to snap up vases made from bamboo. Outside one of the squat wooden cottages stands the railway's mascot: a fibreglass deer sporting a baseball cap bearing the line's logo. At first the deer seems an unusual choice – I didn't spot a single one on during my time in Alishan. But deer have long symbolised longevity in Taiwan, and their cedar-coloured fur mirrors the forests this line winds through. Perhaps this cheerful cap-wearing ruminant is the perfect emblem for a railway that refuses to fade away. -- For more Travel stories from the BBC, follow us on Facebook, X and Instagram.
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
‘On a peak under a blue sky': the joy of summer in Europe's mountains
After a tough scramble to the summit of Rhinog Fach, we look down into the deep valley holding the chilly waters of Llyn Hywel, then west across several miles of heather, bilberry and bare rock to the Welsh coast. Turning my gaze north, there is the entire Llyn peninsula leading east to the peak of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon), no doubt weighed down by thousands of visitors. Up here there are just two of us in an utterly peaceful landscape. No clouds on the horizon. No surprises. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. I lie down for a few minutes and feel myself drift off. There are no human voices to be heard, only birds. Summer has come early to these mountains and I wouldn't be anywhere else, drinking in that particular kind of tranquillity to be found on a peak under a blue sky. Mountains were not always seen as appropriate places to relax on a summer's day. Those lofty, mist-wreathed realms held surprises, most of them nasty, such as trolls and demons. Maybe a few ancient folk knew perfectly well that mountains in summer were wonderful, but they weren't the sort to publicise the fact: the solitary shepherd, gold prospectors not yet consumed by gold fever, and the workers who put up drystone walls – they all must have known the joy of lazing on a summit, perhaps seeing shapes in clouds. Changing culture and taste took a revolution led by artists and poets, men such as Nicolas Poussin, who in the 17th century tried to win people over with paintings of mysterious peaks and epic landscapes. Unfortunately, he couldn't resist adding a fallen Grecian column and a nymph draped in wispy stuff. It took another 150 years before the German artist Caspar David Friedrich relocated the wispy bits to the mountain tops, evicted the nymphs, and added one rugged poetic type, gazing out over the towering tors with a vaguely proprietorial air. His Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog (1818, now in Hamburg at the Kunsthalle) remains the most evocative depiction of the romantic ideal. After that painting, summer in the mountains was de rigueur, but it turned out that Friedrich's sturdy 19th-century mountaineer was actually looking for a place to build a man-shed. All over the continent, wealthy romantics started funding simple dormitory accommodation, often precariously balanced on vertiginous crags. These mountain refuges were vital in allowing people to access the peaks, and became a huge part of my own enjoyment of the mountains. The first to be built was Refuge des Grands Mulets on Mont Blanc in 1853. There is still a hut there, rebuilt a couple of times, perched at 3,051 metres (10,009ft), overlooking the Bossons glacier. My own favourite, Rifugio Nuvolau, is a period classic in the Dolomites, built in 1883 and a haven of stout carpentry, hearty food and astonishing sunsets. Not all are antiques: Monte Rosa near Zermatt is an aluminium solar-powered box that sits above the Gorner glacier and requires ropes and crampons in order to reach it. Some huts are very high indeed: the Margherita on the Italian Monte Rosa is, at 4,554 metres, the highest building in Europe. Sweden's Låktatjåkko (1,228 metres) is both high in altitude and latitude: it's 155 miles (250km) inside the Arctic Circle and often buried in snow, even in summer. Digging to the front door is worth the effort: they serve fantastic waffles with cloudberry jam. The staff in these huts are usually charming and helpful. Not all guests, however, are so wonderful. 'There was one British visitor who, during the course of the night, pushed all the other sleepers along the dormitory bench,' complained one French guest after staying in Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori in Corsica. 'He left a huge empty space behind him and we were all squashed up in one corner.' (I've no idea why I rolled like that. I was fast asleep.) Making a reservation in one of these treasures can require persistence. The famous ones are often booked out, but many of the huts I've mentioned have alternatives nearby. Where there are no mountain huts available, a tent is not always needed. In Romania's Carpathians, I've slept in hay ricks after jolly evenings drinking plum brandy with farmers. Sadly, the hay rick is disappearing as agriculture modernises, but the Carpathians remain a fine mountain destination. Once a local hunter persuaded me to go on a bear hunt (no guns involved). We climbed through shady pine forest and golden flower-sprinkled meadows to warm rock and vast vistas. The hunter described a recent incident when he was chased up a tree by a bear. He proved it by showing his rucksack, complete with claw marks. On our descent, we stumbled on a fresh bear track and, for a second, the idyllic evening was shot through by lightning bolts of adrenaline. An undeniable fact of mountain life is that moments of arcadian bliss can be abruptly ended. You go up in sun, and descend in a wild storm. The unpredictable must be expected. Helm Crag in the Lake District was a favourite of Romantic poet William Wordsworth and for that reason many go to commune with nature. One blustery lunchtime, I was sitting a little below the craggy summit about to enjoy a picnic when a group on the top suddenly flung their grandmother into the air. Caught by the wind, the old lady was whipped sideways and down, straight into the sandwich that was about to go in my mouth. Ash-scattering ceremonies really should be more careful. The ancestor went to her final resting place tainted with Branston pickle. Sign up to The Traveller Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays after newsletter promotion British mountains aren't enlivened by European-style huts, but we do have bothies, camping barns, the Youth Hostels Association (YHA), and a number of good cottages for hire. To climb the Rhinogydd (often anglicised to Rhinogs), I based myself at the off-grid retreat of Garth Gell farm, all lovely hand-worn woodwork, flagstone floors and dusty books. The Rhinogydd are often touted as the most rugged mountain chain south of Hadrian's Wall, which is a bit hard on the North Pennines and Cheviots, but the paths are certainly steep and challenging, deterring many visitors. The chain stretches for about 13 miles, with the highest point at Y Llethr (756 metres) where the 360-degree panorama is really special. The view is, of course, a big part of the attraction. We go up because we can see further. My snooze on Rhinog Fach is interrupted by my companion. 'Look!' he says. The best summer mountain experiences always have that unexpected moment: the bear jumps out and claws your rucksack, human remains land in your picnic … that kind of thing. I sit up, suddenly alert. 'On the wall. Down there.' There's a bird, its pale chest striped with grey, its tail fanned out in annoyance as a horde of smaller birds are mobbing it. And then it calls. I have never considered the cuckoo to be a mountain bird, but there it is at 600 metres on a Welsh hill. And at the same time, away to the west, the haze lifts a little and the blue horizon puckers behind the last bit of Wales. The Blackstairs Mountains of Ireland have appeared. A summer's day in the mountains is complete. Accommodation was provided by Garth Gell, a Kip hideaway, which sleeps six from £240 a night
